


Cinders

by maharieel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 00:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7244134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maharieel/pseuds/maharieel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killing archdemon's always makes people cry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cinders

**Author's Note:**

> So this is horribly written but I want to get it away so . . . take this piece of junk.

He was too far away.

Over the noise of swords and bodies colliding around him, Alistair heard a war-cry unlike any other from across the platform and his gut twisted at the sound. Snapping his eyes to the source of the noise, he barely caught a glimpse of Lilah’s red hair before she began her final assault. He let out a pathetic cry of fear because he was too far away. Too far away. Too far away. 

Alistair sliced his sword through one of the remaining darkspawn. He quickly spun to check on Oghren, who was finishing off a small group a few metres away, before rushing for Lilah. Her hair was the same colour of the blood clouding his vision, as was her scarlet-stained skin. He could not make out her face – she was running away from him, sword raised at the archdemon before her. Maker, it was gigantic beside her.

At some point he’d broken into a dead sprint, screaming her name desperately. It was no use though, and Alistair knew it. In that moment, the woman he held dear was gone, replaced by every slither of pain and anguish and grief that she had ever experienced. In that moment, as she tore through the archdemon’s chest with the sword, Lilah only had eyes for the creature that had destroyed her world. No amount of screaming on Alistair’s part would stop her now. 

He watched in horror as she let out another cry before leaping onto the creature’s head and driving the massive sword through its skull. A beam of blinding light shot from the wound and he had to cover his eyes from the glare. Alistair was mere metres from her now – another few steps and he could reach her, pull her from – 

A hand tugged on his arm.

Alistair spun, a curse on his lips, to come face-to-face with Wynne. The elderly woman was blood-soaked, her robes torn, face weary. She had never looked so old. “You cannot interrupt,” she snapped, clearer than he’d expected. “She must do this.”

“But –“

Wynne tugged on his arm again, eyes hard. “Do not abandon your duty, Alistair. She is a Grey Warden and so she must do this.”

He held her gaze for a moment. He was a Grey Warden too – he should be helping Lilah. But of course, the old woman was right. She was always right. Why should he worry anyway? Morrigan had insisted that her ritual would work, hadn’t she? Despite his lack of trust for the witch, Lilah and her were dear friends . . . surely Morrigan wouldn’t risk the life of her only friend? Surely she wasn’t so heartless?

Alistair dragged his eyes back to Lilah just in time to see her struggling to remove the sword. It was deep in the archdemon’s skull and Lilah wasn’t used to handling weapons of such a scale. Alistair could tell she wasn’t going to dislodge the weapon in time. He only managed to throw his arm out, a cry on his lips, as the world exploded into light around him.

The blast threw Alistair and Wynne through the air a good ten metres – maybe more. Alistair felt his head snap back against stone as he crashed to the ground, body twisting awkwardly as he rolled. Black dots danced before his eyes. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees, wincing at a pain in his side. The blast had lodged a shard of debris in his armour; he’d felt as if his very bones had shaken within him as he was tossed backwards like a doll.

_Lilah . . ._

Staggering to his feet, any thoughts of Wynne or Oghren faded from Alistair’s mind as he rushed towards the hulking corpse of the archdemon. Laid out before him, the creature’s tremendous size became apparent. His gaze was slightly clouded and an absent throbbing had started in his side, but he was too focused on finding his love to feel any pain. The sword she had used to kill the archdemon came into view. 

It was shattered.

Alistair’s heart thudded against his ribcage as he quickened his pace. Where in Thedas was she? Surely she hadn’t been thrown too far away? Surely she was still . . . still – 

He stumbled to a halt when he spotted a small hand coming into view up ahead. Before he could register what he was doing, Alistair was sprinting for Lilah’s motionless body, his lungs turning raw as he screamed for aid. By the time he finally collapsed by her side, he felt as if he had been screaming for days.

“Li,” he whispered as he put his fingers to her neck. Nothing. “Come on Li, don’t do this. Not now.”

Alistair pushed his fingers harder into her neck, as if that would help. Her face was as cut and blood-stained as the rest of her. Her forearm was bent and twisted at an awkward angle and her shoulder looked sure to be dislocated – from the blast, no doubt. Lilah’s armour was torn in numerous places, and her entire left side was charred. He winced as he imagined the immense pain such an injury would cause. He still felt nothing under his fingers, but that could have been because his own heartbeat was pounding in his ears. As he rested his ear to her chest, Alistair realised he was trembling. They hadn’t fought blasted darkspawn for the past year for her to go now. He hadn’t slept with a woman he detested to have her simply lie to him. She wasn’t allowed to do this to him. Not when they were so darn close to victory. “Come on, you stubborn ass,” he snapped, taking her face in his hands and shaking her slightly. “Come on. Open your eyes. Lilah, wake up! Come on open your eyes Lilah!”

She remained unresponsive. 

Suddenly, the familiar thrum of magic filled his heart and Alistair stared up at Wynne in confusion. The mage was desperately casting every healing and regeneration spell she knew, magic steadily pouring from the end of her staff. Still, Lilah wouldn’t come back to him.

“Morrigan!” he screamed as loud as he could. “You liar! What have you done? Morrigan! What have you done?”

He leaned into Lilah’s chest, eyes squeezed shut as tears started wetting his cheeks. An eerie silence fell as Alistair’s world slowly crumbled down around him. _This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be happening . . ._

Someone groaned.

He stared in horror as Lilah opened her eyes slightly, a trail of blood dribbling from her lips as she coughed. In the distance, a soft thump echoed to his ears. _Maker preserve him._ “Lilah . . .”

“Mm.” Another pathetic excuse for a cough. 

It took him a moment to process what was happening. _She had no pulse. She was dead._

The questions flew from Alistair’s mind as he threw himself at her, crushing her to his chest. “You’re alive. You’re alive. Maker, Li, you’re alive.”

She let out a hiss of pain as he rocked her softly but Alistair barely registered the sound as he cradled her head in one hand, the other wrapped tightly around her. She was cold – too cold – and she was trembling badly but she was breathing and alive and oh Maker . . . she was back and she was his. Alistair squeezed her tighter, moving to burying his face in the crook of her good shoulder. Her skin was clammy against his own.

Maker he was sobbing like a child. “You’re alive,” he whispered into her skin. “You’re alive.”

He felt her good hand slip from his impossibly tight embrace to clutch at his hair. “Wasn’t for a moment there,” she murmured. Her voice was laced with pain.

The tears wouldn’t stop. “But you came back to me.”

He felt something wet tickle his neck and quickly realised it was Lilah’s own tears. “I’m – sorry.”

Alistair hushed her before loosening his grip . . . slightly. She stayed curled into his chest despite the discomfort it was probably causing her, her hand slipping from his head. Alistair watched the laboured rise and fall of her chest. _Alive. Alive. Alive._

A grunt tore his gaze from his love’s desolate figure to where Oghren was tending to a barely-conscious Wynne. The elderly mage was seated and leaning against the dwarf’s shoulder, eyes slitted and exhaustion lining every inch of her. It took Alistair a moment to register what she had done. “Wynne . . .”

A small smile crept onto her face. “Do not worry over it, young man. Enjoy the moment.”

Alistair kissed Lilah’s hair quickly before mouthing ‘thank you’ to the mage who had helped pull Lilah from the brink. The mage who would forever be in his debt.  
Oghren swatted a hunk of darkspawn gore from his beard as he broke the silence that had fallen over the small group. “We just killed the fucking archdemon.”

The weight of the dwarf’s words hit Alistair finally. The archdemon was dead. Dead. And all thanks to the elf who had fallen unconscious in his lap. “Drinks on me tonight.”

Oghren huffed out a laugh, helping Wynne into a more comfortable position. “Laddy, I plan on celebrating for weeks.”

Alistair smiled. 

He wasn’t sure how long the four of them had laid there beside the hulking corpse of the archdemon. Lilah stayed unconscious in his lap and after a while, Wynne had regained enough strength to sit on her own. Eventually, Teagan emerged with Bear on his heel and news that Morrigan had disappeared at the battles end. Alistair couldn’t have care less about the fate of the witch. They’d won . . . and lived to see their victory. All of them had _lived._ That in itself was cause for celebration.


End file.
